Out of Victoria station

Across the river low spring tiderises above the Plane treesmoss’d green walls and the smell of time.The sun sleeps me with its warmthunclouded mackerel sky, alone againheart a tumbling ride of longingfor youfor life.Across the river, apartments loomthe train lurches, switches tracksbehind me Ms Anonymous drones her everyday agenda.Bluebells are pushing through rubber tyresscreaming upwards towards the lightI should be doing something useful, something precisebut can only stare with vacant eyes at white blossom,the superimposition of your face, our livestechnicolour on brackish river, till with a sigh I turn asidemesmerised by youmesmerised by life.